


The One Where They Were All Snowed In

by infalliblefandoms



Series: Friends Verse [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infalliblefandoms/pseuds/infalliblefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's winter, and it's snowing a goddamn lot... so much so that they all get stuck in Enjolras' apartment.<br/>And a lot of pretending goes on. Seriously, so much. The word 'pretending' is used far too much in this. Woops.<br/>Disclaimer: contains excessive amounts of cuddling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where They Were All Snowed In

Mid-winter was proving to be brutal, with such snow fall as they’d never seen the likes of. It was murderously cold, and venturing outside was a brave endeavour.

After a meeting at Enjolras’ apartment which had run particularly long, Joly became anxious to get home - “I can’t risk being caught out there for any longer than I have to! Bossuet, we’ve got to go.”

Three minutes after their departure, with everybody else preparing to leave, albeit reluctantly - no one was in a rush to brave the cold, the duo returned.

Combeferre let them back in with a quizzical look.

“Back so soon?”

Joly whimpered somewhere beneath his three scarves.

“Never left” explained Bossuet. “We’re kind of… snowed in.”

The group exploded in dismay and various expletives were shouted.

“That’s ridiculous, it hasn’t been snowing that much” Enjolras huffed and went to the window. They’d closed the curtains to conserve heat, and Enjolras ate his words when he saw the view.

The snow was falling steadily, and the street below was already blanketed in heavy drifts, the cars half-submerged in powder. The snow was covering three-quarters of the street level doors on the opposite side of the road.

“Fuck…”

“Guess we’ll all be crashing here then!” Grantaire didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit upset. In fact, he was grinning smugly.

He and Enjolras had reached a somewhat strange point in their relationship. They made out sometimes, but they were definitely Not A Couple. Enjolras still treated Grantaire with that same unaffected coolness, and Grantaire pretended that he wasn’t bothered.

The others all pretended to stay out of it. And Enjolras pretended to not have feelings. Basically, there was a whole lot of pretending going on.

Courfeyrac and Jehan were little better. They studiously avoided talking, though they remained as affectionate as ever. They were pretending that trading kisses whilst sharing an arm chair was acceptable behaviour for platonic friends.

Combeferre was still in the stages of blushing every time Eponine did anything at all.

Feuilly continued to pretend that he didn’t understand the significance of his and Bahorel’s increasingly co-dependent relationship, or the fact that they seemed to be touching at all times.

Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Marius and Cosette were the only ones with their shit together.

Combeferre took over, as Enjolras was sulking on the couch, and divvied out blankets, pillows and spare duvets.

Cosette took it upon herself to prepare beverages, and soon everyone was installed in the living room with tea and coffee and cookies. Combeferre had joined Enjolras on the couch, and to distract him from being pissy about having twelve impromptu house guests, baited him into a discussion about China’s economic domination.

Grantaire proceeded to wrap himself and Eponine in blankets and pretended to not be jealous, sipping his scalding tea aggressively.

Feuilly and Bahorel had scored a blow up mattress, as well as a monopoly over the pillows. They had commandeered the TV and were playing an unnecessarily flirty game of Mario Kart.

Cosette and Marius had curled together on one of the arm chairs and were giggling together over something on Marius’ phone.

Joly was latched onto Bossuet where they lay amidst a sea of blankets, only their heads visible between the layers of mohair and micro fibre.

Courfeyrac was wrapped in a sort of blanket burrito, sitting propped up against the couch. Jehan was curled between his legs, and Courfeyrac had wrapped the duvet around them both whilst sporting a dazed little smile.

10 o’clock stretched to 11. Feuilly and Bahorel had grown tired of their game and most were sprawled across the floor, cuddling the living crap out of each other. Quite literally, in Bossuet’s case, with Joly close to suffocating him with his limpet-like affection.

Enjolras returned from his bedroom to survey the tangle of limbs that was his friends. He sighed and moved to return to his bed when he caught sight of Grantaire, alone on the couch, curled upon himself and without a blanket.

Something in his chest seized at the sight, and he crossed the room to gently shake Grantaire awake.

Sleep disturbed, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes before shivering bodily, his body betraying just how cold he was.

Enjolras, true to form, only tilted his head slightly toward the bedroom before walking away.

He slid back under the covers and wriggled his toes to try and work the feeling back into them. After a few minutes he was starting to worry that Grantaire had misinterpreted him, and had simply drifted back into his uncomfortable sleep.

His thoughts were interrupted, though, when Grantaire appeared in the doorway, looking adorably unsure and wary, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater.

“Grantaire…” Enjolras started, almost angrily, as seemed to be his default reaction when it came to the dark-haired man. He berated himself inwardly before trying again.

“Come here”

Apparently his tone was soft enough to appease Grantaire’s nerves, and soon Enjolras was moving to accommodate him in the bed.

He hissed when Grantaire’s leg brushed against his, feeling how icy his skin was. Grantaire recoiled, having interpreted the noise as something else entirely.

He jerked away suddenly and Enjolras had to forcefully pull him back down before he could flee.

“It was just that you were so cold” he explained, and he could feel Grantaire’s eyes on him, calculating.

He sighed for the second time that night, cursed himself for being so terrible at interpersonal relationships, and then pulled Grantaire fully into his arms.

He swallowed down he discomfort at having Grantaire’s frozen skin pressed so close to his own, but he didn’t pull away. He smoothed his hands across Grantaire’s back and side in an attempt to warm him, and was rewarded with an actual purr from Grantaire.

Then, taking a leaf out of Courfeyrac’s book (jesus when did he start taking cues from Courfeyrac), he decided there was a more efficient way of warming them both up.

He didn’t even notice the iciness of Grantaire’s touch once he had his mouth on him and they were completely tangled together. 

It only took a few minutes before they were both decidedly warm and sated - trading lazy kisses beneath the duvet.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always appreciated, I'm writing this for you guys after all!
> 
> I also really like writing about these guys when they are in awkward stages within their relationships. God they're all ridiculous non-communicative idiots. But I love them. We all love them.


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